The Mourning After
by wondercloud
Summary: Short one-shot, follow up to 'Til Death Do Us Part. Mentions of character death.


'_Until Death Do They Part' follow up. Mentions of character death._

* * *

Gibbs sank to the couch, cradling his head as he let out a broken sound. It was all too familiar; too much.

He couldn't get the images out of his mind. Tony and Ziva, crushed almost beyond recognition when the elevator was pried open. (He hadn't yet stopped to wonder what the hell they'd even been doing in there. Protocol hardly seemed important now.) McGee… they couldn't even find him. Ducky, who had a heart attack all alone on the beach. Gibbs had been counting on Abby to pull through. She had seemingly recovered from her physical injuries, but woke up repeatedly asking what had happened. She was always responsive to Gibbs, but she wasn't herself. He just couldn't _do it_ anymore.

He was supposed to protect them.

He barely made it to the kitchen before he got sick.

* * *

It would bother Gibbs for years that he hadn't worn a tie at the service. He'd never been good with the damn things. His mother had tsk'ed on every occasion, fussing that a young man ought to be able to put on his own tie, but she'd always smiled and done it for him anyway. He could picture Shannon, laughing at his crooked efforts and telling him he was hopeless as she fixed it properly. He could hear Jen's 'Honestly, Jethro' as she frowned at his tie. In recent years, it had been Abby or Ziva straightening it for whatever pansy event they had to attend. Neither of them had fussed- he kind of thought they'd liked doing it. That day, he gave it his best effort. After half an hour, his hands had been shaking so badly that he'd cursed the tie, taking it off and throwing it to the floor.

* * *

He was secretly glad the building was demolished beyond repair. It was bad enough having to look at himself in the mirror every morning. He would have been unable to bear working in the same space, even if it had been reconstructed, and seeing strangers where his team should be. He floated about mindlessly these days. When he wasn't focusing on getting every son of a bitch responsible for his loss, he sat on his couch and drank until his thoughts were numb enough for sleep.

He couldn't even bring himself to go down to the basement. Once a comfortable place of solitude, it was now flooded with memories. Gibbs wished he hadn't been quite so annoyed when the 'kids' had dropped by, pestering him with one thing or another. By far his least favorite basement memory was also the most haunting, of Ziva killing Ari. Tim came by the least often, but was always seriously troubled when he did. Gibbs learned early on that McGee could _not_ hold his liquor. Abby preferred coming by to drag Gibbs 'out of the dungeon, and into the world, where there's light'. Ducky appeared only when he was deeply concerned for Gibbs himself. Ziva showed up now and again, for whatever reason, but they shared more of a companionable silence. Tony was the regular. His last several visits had been agonizing over asking Ziva to become something more. _'DiNozzo, do I look like I should be giving relationship advice? Either make a move, or shut the hell up about it. Now get the sander and make yourself useful.'_

He'd stay on the job until every last bastard connected to Dearing had been dealt with- to his satisfaction. He owed them that much. And then he'd disappear. Maybe head up to his dad's for awhile, and then build a boat he could really set sail on. It would hurt Abby, at first. But she probably wouldn't remember it, anyway. They took good care of her at the rehabilitation center. Gibbs felt guilty when he didn't visit her, and guilty when he did. She seemed happy sometimes, working with the children at the center or playing board games with the elderly she'd made friends with. On days she remembered, her eyes just clouded over when Gibbs came by. The other days, the days that she asked what happened... she'd be better off if he weren't around to answer.

He poured the remnants of a bottle into his glass. The hell with waiting for justice.

This was personal.


End file.
